


Under Sunlight

by NachtGraves



Series: Tumblr Prompts [16]
Category: Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Victorian, F/M, Jealousy, M/M, Peerage, Prompt Fill, Secret Relationship, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, but i've taken liberties, not historically accurate
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 07:46:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19168879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NachtGraves/pseuds/NachtGraves
Summary: Hajime knows he needs to look away, that his face is likely fixed in a picture of longing and envy, but he soaks Fuyuhiko in.





	Under Sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: can i get some jealous!Kuzuhina (like they both like each other or are dating and they both get simultaneously jealous?)
> 
> Hit me up on [tumblr](nachtgraves.tumblr.com)!
> 
> **The kids' former high schools are their 'territory' for their title. Not a lot of them work too well though ~~if it's even known~~ but Duke Green Hills is Togami for reference in case that doesn't come through.

Hajime’s nerves battle between excitement and dread and anxiety that is not entirely because of the fairly rocky carriage ride. He can’t seem to sit still, smoothing his hands over his legs, buttoning and unbuttoning the cuffs of his shirt, fidgeting with the lapels of his coat. Chiaki, sitting across from him, reaches over and stills his jumping knee.

“You’ve been to parties as my companion before. And we know Makoto and Kyoko. What’s wrong?”

Hajime sighs. “I know. It’s nothing, just, _he_ ’ll be there.”

“I don’t understand. Shouldn’t you be more excited about that?”

Hajime shrugs helplessly. He should. He hasn’t seen his lover in months and letters are nice but never enough. And it’s not like he can talk about his lover since no one but Chiaki knows that his lover is the Marquess of Suzuran, Fuyuhiko Kuzuryuu.

They are something that shouldn’t have happened, couldn’t have happened if not for chance. Chiaki’s world alone is something that Hajime as a boy didn’t think he’d ever be a part of. And he’s still not, not really. He isn’t an earl or even a baronet, he’s Chiaki’s friend and valet. The lines are blurred and they’re already stomping over the lines of propriety and tradition and Hajime wasn’t about to test his luck with making his and Fuyuhiko’s relationship public knowledge. Even with Chiaki, Fuyuhiko is of a prestige that is out of Hajime’s reach. He cherishes every second he can be with his marquess.

“To the public, we don’t know each other,” Hajime finally says. Even if he wanted to use Chiaki he couldn’t, his best friend and his lover are in completely different circles. Makoto and Kyoko’s engagement party is one of very few parties where different ranking mingle, Kyoko a duke’s daughter and Makoto a baron’s son. “And I can’t pretend not to know him the way I do if we’re together.”

Chiaki hums and pats his knee before withdrawing. They change the subject and talk about who else will be in attendance, who they’re looking forward to seeing. Who they’re not. Due to the disparity between Kyoko and Makoto’s ranks, their relationship has been the fodder for gossip rags and spiteful gossip since they became public and their engagement party is not the intimate gathering of friends that they would have preferred.

Soon enough, they arrive at the Kirigiri estate. There’s a line of carriages and they wait until it’s their turn to disembark. A footman opens the door and Chiaki gives their names as he helps them out. Free of the carriage, Hajime smooths out his clothes and offers Chiaki his arm after she sorts out her dress. They walk arm-in-arm past the tall gates of the estate and immediately come into a large garden party. There are patio tables and lace-decorated umbrellas. Servers mill about holding silver platters of champagne and lemon water. A band plays a gentle number that a few pairs dance to on the grass.

There are many familiar faces around, some Hajime knows personally and others he knows only by reputation. One of the tables has been repurposed for cards with spectators gathered around Lady Celestia and His Grace Green Hills, Lady Touko hovering by His Grace. Sonia is in discussion with Gundham and Kazuichi. Nekomaru, Akane, Lord Leon, and Lady Aoi are in the middle of some sort of ball game with Dame Sakura keeping an eye on them.

“Ah, there’s Kyoko!” Chiaki says. She tugs Hajime towards a small gathering. In the center of it is the happy couple, Kyoko drawn into the thick of the conversation and Makoto standing by her side. They’re with people Hajime doesn’t know but when Makoto catches sight of them he looks relieved and extracts himself from the gathering after a word to Kyoko.

“Chiaki, Hajime, thank you for coming.” He seems to want to reach out for a hug but they’re in mixed company and restrains himself to a bright smile and the use of their first names.

“Congratulations, my lord,” Hajime says teasingly, clasping Makoto’s hands in place of a hug.

“I’m not a lord yet.” Makoto flushes pink from embarrassment and happiness, maybe a bit from the sun bearing down on them. He looks back to Kyoko who’s glancing towards him. It’s absolutely sickening and Hajime couldn’t be happier for them, if a touch envious.

They spend a few minutes catching up, and it’s mostly Makoto that has had major changes in his life since they last saw one another. He’s in the thick of legalities to make Komaru the heir of their family’s barony after he marries into the Kirigiri family. He’ll become an earl of one of the Kirigiris’ smaller lands when Kyoko inherits her father’s duchy.

They’re in the middle of discussing and lamenting all that is involved in the preparations for Makoto and Kyoko’s wedding when Hajime hears someone say, ““Oh, the Marquess brought only his knight. Maybe there is something to the rumors.”

Hajime can’t help turning around and there he is, in a dark three piece suit with matching coat and a dark gold tie fixed in a perfect knot. And on his arm is Dame Peko, in a suit-styled dress that matches with Fuyuhiko. They look a powerful pair.

Hajime knows he needs to look away, that his face is likely fixed in a picture of longing and envy, but he soaks Fuyuhiko in. The vest, shades lighter than his coat and trousers with burnt gold fastenings and a darker embroidered design of Eastern styled dragons, is one Hajime remembers. He’d seen it in passing in a shop window the last time he had managed to visit Fuyuhiko. He remembers mentioning it but they had quickly moved onto less coherently verbal matters.

In any case, he’d been right. The vest looks amazing on Fuyuhiko and Hajime wants to peel off Fuyuhiko’s coat to see the fabric in full. They’re stopped by peers and Hajime turns around, trying to pretend he wasn’t staring so openly at the two. Chiaki’s giving him a knowing look he ignores.

“I wish I could keep talking with you both, but I can’t leave Kyoko to do all the hosting. After all of this,” Makoto waves his hands about, “is over, we must get drinks or dinner. I miss you both.”

“Of course, if you can find the time to pull yourself away from your future duties as an earl and the husband of a duchess.”

Makoto rolls his eyes but waves as he returns to Kyoko, taking her arm in his, accepting felicitations and joining conversation.

Chiaki slips her hand from Hajime’s elbow. “I need to run to the wash closet,” she says. “You’ll be fine on your own for a bit?”

“I’m supposed to be the one watching out for you,” Hajime retorts. “I’ll be by the buffet table.”

Chiaki asks him to grab something for her before she leaves him alone. The buffet table laden with bite-sized treats ranging from biscuits and tea buns to mini-sandwiches and puddings in tiny glass cups. He walks down the length of it, picking up sandwiches and pastries he knows Chaiki likes. As he continues to peruse the offerings, he comes to a tray of fried dough bites. Hajime doesn’t have much of a sweet tooth, but he’s very familiar with the sweet, incredibly unhealthy snack.

He reaches for the pair of tongs to grab a few of the dark strips of dough and brown sugar but someone else has the same idea. He looks up, apology halfway off his tongue but stops short.

“Lord Suzuran,” Hajime says in a mix of surprise and trained greeting. He barely remembers not to call Fuyuhiko by name.

Fuyuhiko’s face is impassive but Hajime notes the way his eyes flash in amusement. He’d done this one purpose.

“Mr. Hinata,” Fuyuhiko returns. He takes the tongs and loads up his plate with his favorite food. “You like these?”

He’s being unfair but Hajime can’t just ignore him, and if he lies Fuyuhiko will never let him forget it. “Um, not really no.”

“Oh?” _Then why were you going to grab them?_ remains unsaid but his expression is knowing, mouth curved in a slight smirk.

“I just know someone who loves them,” Hajime buckles, looking away in his admission. When he looks back to Fuyuhiko, his marquess is eating one of his fried dough treats, licking his fingers of the brown sugar syrup residue. Hajime follows the movement closely. He’s being so obvious it’s probably pathetic. They’re out in the open and they’re in vastly different circles, not supposed to know each other even as acquaintances. Fuyuhiko’s a marquess and heir to a dukedom and Hajime is little more than the valet and close friend to a viscountess.

Hajime knows what Fuyuhiko is doing. His lover has made it clear that he’s not exactly happy with keeping their relationship a secret, only doing so at Hajime’s behest. But he doesn’t try to make things easier in the few times they attend the same social functions.

He tries to find some other topic to switch to and stupidly asks, “Lady Natsumi couldn’t make it?” Of all the topics to pick this is the last he could and should have gone with. But he can’t help himself. At least he didn’t outright ask about why he brought Dame Peko. Fuyuhiko is notorious for not courting or bringing anyone but his sisters and his knight to events as his companions. His excuse has always been that he has no time nor interest for courting and society and Natsumi loves all sorts of events so he acts as her chaperone since he doesn’t trust anyone else. It kills two birds with one stone since it makes him fulfill the social obligations of his position.

“Natsumi’s at school so it’s just me and Peko.” He looks over his shoulder and Hajime follows suit, seeing Dame Sakura and Dame Peko conversing. The two were schoolmates, Dame Peko a year ahead. They both have such rigid and neutral, if somewhat threatening, expressions it’s difficult to tell that they’re familiar with one another.

He eats another fried dough strip. “I take it you’re accompanying Lady Chiaki?”

Hajime nods. “Ah yes.” And speak of the devil, Hajime sees her coming towards him. “There she is.”

When she approaches, she links her arms with Hajime’s. “Sorry for making you wait,” she says to Hajime, and then she greets Fuyuhiko.

Fuyuhiko’s eyes linger at their linked arms, the golden orbs go flat. He fixes a polite smile and returns Chiaki’s greeting, but he’s already distancing himself. “I’ll leave you two. I should return to Peko.” Without much else, he turns on his heel and walks over to his knight. Hajime watches after him, his heart heavy. Fuyuhiko slips easily into conversation with Dame Peko and Dame Sakura and Hajime reaches for champagne from the tray of a passing server. He downs it quickly and grimaces at the after taste.

Chiaki leans against him. “Did I interrupt?”

Hajime sighs. “No. Oh, hey, you like this waltz, don’t you?”

It’s not the smoothest diversion but Chiaki allows him it, and it’s not like he’s lying. It is a waltz Chiaki enjoys due to its ease and simplicity. Hajime abandons the food he’s lost his appetite for and they join other pairs on the grassy open space in front of the band, sliding into the familiar steps.

Hajime does his best not to look at Fuyuhiko whenever the other man is in sight over Chiaki’s shoulder. He tries to focus on Chiaki, chatting and laughing as he spins her around. They dance for two songs before they need to take a break. There’s really no cover from the sun. They take refuge at one of the patio tables and manage to flag down a server with glasses of chilled lemon water. Hajime would prefer they have a quiet moment to themselves, but that’s near impossible at a gathering like this.

Chiaki, like Fuyuhiko, doesn’t always attend social functions. Unless it’s a small and intimate gathering with those she considers friends, she’d much prefer to be left to her own, literal, devices and books.

But they’re stuck and have to navigate the shifting social waters. Or at least Chiaki does. Most tend to ignore Hajime or order him about thinking he’s staff. Which he is, but only to Chiaki if he’s attending as her valet and not companion, and that’s rarely the case if Chiaki can help it.

But today is one such time that he’s treated as less by individuals that try to simper and curry favor from Chiaki. A lord Hajime only faintly recognizes but cannot recall his title, much less his name, invites himself to their table and snidely questions why Hajime is just sitting there, beside Chiaki. Hajime fixes a smile and settles a hand on Chiaki’s knee under the table to stop her from tearing the lord apart.

“I was resting. I don’t dance often and while today is lovely overall, the sun is brutal.” He can’t outright correct the lord of his misconception, it would go against all sorts of social decorum and Hajime would be the one in the wrong regardless. He doesn’t want to cause Chiaki grief because a peer was called out on his behaviour and publically embarrassed by a commoner.

Chiaki adds, “Hajime’s a great friend. He’s always humoring me even at risk of heat stroke.”

The lord pretends it was all in jest and tries to backtrack by laughing the discussion off and moving onto safer topics of estates and debutantes and the season’s fashion. It’s all over Hajime’s head and topics he can’t have much say in because of his station. Even if Hajime could and would have wanted to take part, the lord very pointedly directs all his attention to Chiaki and all but erects a wall between them. Chiaki pats his hand in support under the table.

As conversation is not open to him and he’s not about to leave Chiaki alone with his man, Hajime takes to looking around. The Kirigiri estate is an architectural and landscaped masterpiece with not a stone nor branch out of place. And if structure and décor bores him, the variety of guests dressed in the broad range of the current fashion provide plenty to be observed.

But his eyes keep going to the man with buzzed blond hair. And he wishes they didn’t. Fuyuhiko and Dame Peko have moved on to spectate a game of cards. Some uninformed or cocky lord is trying their hand against Lady Celestia. Dame Peko leans down and whispers something in his ear, it looks intimate and Hajime’s stomach twists. He knows better, but he still feels ill when Fuyuhiko snorts and looks up at Dame Peko with a hint of a smile and replies, rising up on his toes before she leans back down so he can whisper in her ear.

“Who do I have to see about putting money on the Marquess and his knight being the next society wedding?” the lord says, drawing Hajime’s focus back to the table.

“If there is such a pool, that’s the last I would bet for,” Chiaki replies.

“Now, my lady, it would be a bit scandalous but look at our hosts. Anything’s possible, apparently.” The derision is accompanied by rolled eyes directed towards Makoto.

“The illusionary differences of social class have nothing to do with my opinions. And if someone ever thought that of me, they really do not know me at all, now do they, Hajime?” Rarely is Chiaki curt or cold, but she’s been growing steadily irate with their unwelcome table companions A tense cloud settles over the table and the lord is not so oblivious to not realize he’s made a misstep yet again.

He stumbles over some sort of recovery but Chiaki is lenient enough to save him the trouble. “If you’ll excuse us, I haven't had the chance to catch up with Lord Nagito.”

Chiaki gets up and Hajime follows suit but he almost stops in his tracks seeing just whom Lord Nagito is currently with.

Lord Nagito is an eccentric peer and Hajime has never quire disliked the man, but he can’t say he quite likes or enjoys his company. He can’t quite place Lord Nagito’s feelings towards him either. The odd lord has few close companions and by some strange logic one of them is Fuyuhiko. Hajime’s never understood and Fuyuhiko’s never been able to put a finger on it himself.

So he really shouldn’t be surprised that up ahead, champagne glasses in hand, Fuyuhiko is rolling his eyes at whatever Kazuichi and Lord Nagito are discussing, although arguing may be closer verb.

Chiaki reaches out and holds onto Hajime’s arm, leaning over and saying quietly, “If you want to take a few minutes, there’s probably no one around the back.”

Hajime hesitates. He doesn’t want to runaway but he also isn’t into punishing himself more than he already has. There’s still a good while before it’s acceptable to leave, even with the excuse that he and Chiaki will be going straight home rather than lodging somewhere in the city. “I’ll find you in a bit.”

Chiaki lets him go after a quick kiss to his cheek. Hajime can feel stares on them but doesn’t look around. “Go on, I’ll be fine.”

Chiaki goes off and Hajime forces himself not to stare after her and subsequently Fuyuhiko, turning away and heading for the quieter backyard of the estate. He walks around the edge of the manor and comes to a large back garden of the season’s flowers in full bloom. They’re made up almost like a maze that guides to a gazebo that’s mostly hidden by miniature trees and flowering bushes. Like Chiaki had guessed, there’s no one else around.

He follows along the path and steps into the shade of the gazebo. Inside is a white wicker patio set; a square table set with a glass top and two chairs with intricate weaving. Hajime sheds his coat and folds it over the back of a chair before he takes a seat, leaning back and closing his eyes. Music and chatter from the party are a faint noise in his peripheral.

While he doesn’t quite fall asleep, he must have dozed a bit deeply because he’s blinking out of a daze when someone’s shaking his shoulder.

“Stealing away for a nap?” Fuyuhiko says looking down at him. He’s standing between Hajime’s legs that have ended up in a long sprawl and still fuzzy-headed, Hajime reaches out and cups Fuyuhiko’s face, pulling him down for a kiss.

Fuyuhiko braces himself with one hand on the back of the chair but otherwise falls into the soft but firm and lingering press of mouths. Hajime can feel Fuyuhiko smile into the kiss and it pulls a smile of his own until an applause echoes from the distance and Hajime remembers where they are and that even though the gazebo is out of the way and gives the illusion of privacy, it is just an illusion.

It hurts his heart to see Fuyuhiko’s smile dip when Hajime hurriedly pulls away, getting to his feet and trying to create distance without toppling backwards over the chair. Fuyuhiko takes a step back and crosses his arms over his chest. He’s discarded his coat as well and the vest looks just as good as Hajime thought it would on him. Unfortunately, they’re not in a place where he can properly appreciate it.

“I, sorry, I forgot where we were,” Hajime says, smoothing out his clothes to take his mind off of Fuyuhiko’s.

“There’s no one around, Hajime,” Fuyuhiko says. “Everyone’s busy with champagne and dancing and gossiping.”

“Someone could have the same idea as us and come back here to take a breather,” Hajime argues. “Any little action lends to gossip and rumors.”

“Doesn’t stop you from fueling the rumors about you and your viscountess,” Fuyuhiko grumbles, looking off to the side.

“You know those are baseless. Anyone that actually knows Chiaki or me knows that we’re siblings at most. And it’s expected. We grew up together. And it’s not like you and Dame Peko are any different.” He should stop there, but he can’t help bitterly adding, “At least Chiaki and I have never had romantic feelings for each other.”

He regrets his words as soon as they escape him. Now he’s being unfair and purposely so about something long past. Dame Peko and Fuyuhiko’s relationship is entirely platonic and he knows it. When Dame Peko did have feelings for Fuyuhiko, it was long before Hajime and Fuyuhiko even met. Fuyuhiko and Dame Peko had been children, it was a first crush that settled into loyalty and trust and a bone-deep friendship.

Fuyuhiko doesn’t even say anything. He just shoves his hands into his pockets but Hajime can see they’re clenched into fists within the fabric, his muscles tense. His face goes blank, a flinty steel to his eyes.

“Fuyuhiko, I didn’t—” Hajime tries to apologize but Fuyuhiko cuts him off.

“I should be returning. If you’re going to continue napping, there’s a bench close to the doors that won’t fuck up your neck.” With that Fuyuhiko turns around and walks away, quickly disappearing behind shrubbery and returning to the party.

Hajime falls back into the chair and hangs his head. He’s really shoved his foot in his mouth now and he’ll definitely have to figure out how to make it up to Fuyuhiko, if Fuyuhiko will even still talk to him.

It takes him a few minutes to make himself get up and rejoin the party even though he is far from a partying sort of mood. But he can’t disappear and abandon Chiaki until it’s time to go home.

Returning back to the rest of the party, Hajime finds that everyone is at tables chatting or gambling or discussing business and trade. The band’s taking a break, their instruments put off to the side under some shade, all of them down water and wiping sweat off their brows. Anyone who was wearing a coat no longer is and sleeves are rolled up. A server stops Hajime and asks if he might take Hajime’s coat, to which Hajime gratefully hands off the item with a thank you before looking for Chiaki.

He finds her in the shade of a looming tree with Lord Nagito, Kazuichi, and Lady Aoi. He joins them and makes an excuse of needing some time away from the heat for his prolonged disappearance. Chiaki frowns at him, she must be able to tell that something had happened.

“I saw Fuyuhiko slip away for a bit,” she whispers to him when they have a second.

Hajime shakes his head. “I messed up.” Fuyuhiko’s across the yard. Hajime meets his eyes for a second but Fuyuhiko quickly looks away.

Chiaki pats his arm in sympathy but says, “I understand your position, but it must be hard on him too.”

“It’ll be harder for him if we don’t do this.”

Chiaki makes a noncommittal noise. “It was hard for Makoto and Kyoko. But they stuck together. Makoto was so worried but look at him now.”

Makoto is all smiles that are even softer when turned to Kyoko, the sun shining down on them.

Hajime looks to Fuyuhiko and his heart clenches in his chest at the marquess. It’s not obvious to others, but Hajime has learned Fuyuhiko’s body language and he knows when Fuyuhiko is upset and angry. Dame Peko does too. Her usually emotionless mask cracks into a hint of concern and she leans down to whisper something to Fuyuhiko. Fuyuhiko shakes his head and runs a hand through his hair. He smiles, a tired one, and Hajime knows it’s his fault even before Dame Peko looks up and shoots him a judging glare. Hajime looks down, ashamed, and lets conversation happen around him, only making noises of acknowledgement when needed.

Not long later, the band returns to their instruments to resume their next set. Their leader calls for couples, namely Makoto and Kyoko, to take the floor. There’s cheering and clapping as Makoto takes Kyoko’s hand and leads her to the center of the cleared space. Other couples and pairs surround them, getting into position and waiting on the band. Everyone who came with a companion finds a space. Hajime automatically takes Chiaki’s hand and gets into position, ready to move to practiced steps.

But when the band starts, Hajime recognizes the song as the first few notes sing through the air and his legs freeze. It’s a song native to his hometown, a song about fate and true love discovered in touch and a leap of faith. It’s the first song Fuyuhiko and Hajime ever danced to. It was one of their first secret meetings, a private indoor picnic of wine and pastries spirited away from the kitchens.

Chiaki pats his cheek. “You should dance to this with who you’re meant to.” She pulls away from him. “I’d rather raid the snacks while everyone else is busy.” And she walks away and does exactly that, leaving Hajime standing alone. Someone snickers at him but he turns and finds Fuyuhiko. He and Dame Peko have managed to snag an abandoned set of chairs. Fuyuhiko’s leaning on his elbow and looking at the pairs dancing with a wistful tilt to the purse of his lips.

Hajime’s been a cowardly idiot. He makes his way around the dancers and comes up to Fuyuhiko. Dame Peko notices him first but she doesn’t do more than send him a warning look and make some excuse to get up and leave. She distracts Fuyuhiko long enough that Hajime is in front of Fuyuhiko before Fuyuhiko can bolt.

“Mr. Hinata,” Fuyuhiko says, cautious, surprised. He quickly shoots a glare at Dame Peko, quickly figuring out his knight had abandoned him on purpose.

“My lord.” Hajime’s voice cracks at the address, but he soldiers on. “My lord, would you allow me a dance?” He bows at the waist, arm extended, palm up. His hand is shaking ever so and he knows there are eyes on him. A lowly valet asking a marquess to dance to a love song played at every wedding and engagement party. But all he can look at is Fuyuhiko’s face, his mouth parted in surprise, eyes wide in disbelief. And then he’s smiling, a glimmer in his gold eyes that Hajime has only ever known in privacy and seclusion where they were free to be. Well, where Hajime thought they were free to be, but they could be free in public too.

Fuyuhiko takes his hand and Hajime almost doesn’t believe it, but he pulls Fuyuhiko to his feet and leads him to an open space, into his embrace and the first steps of the dance. He leaves the space of propriety between them but Fuyuhiko steps in a little too far at the next beat and reduces it to one of intimacy. Anything less was for private rooms or a curtained alcove.

“If we’re doing this, we’re not doing it halfway, Mr. Hinata.”

Hajime laughs and lowers his hand from Fuyuhiko’s shoulder blade to the gentle curve of his lower back. “Then you should be calling me by name, Fuyuhiko.”

Fuyuhiko rolls his eyes at him but he leans up and Hajime’s eyes go wide thinking that Fuyuhiko is actually going to kiss him. He’s already taking such a big leap, he doesn’t know if he can qiute go that far though. But with a mischievous smile, Fuyuhiko angles to the side at the last second and it takes a moment for Hajime to register the brief peck on his cheek. Before he pulls away, Fuyuhiko tsks by Hajime’s ear, “There are a few things I’d prefer we keep under moonlight.”

Hajime’s ears are bright red throughout the dance, but his heart is light and full and his smile won’t leave his face for hours to come.


End file.
